Christmas is traditionally the time of year when we go all out with decorations- lights, tinsel, maybe even an ironic stocking- but with a new season sweeping in, I love decorating for autumn, too. I’m not just talking about hanging up some skeletons for Hallowe’en. This season offers us such a beautiful palette that it’d be remiss to not use it as an opportunity for some home décor.

Most of my Instagram feed have already plundered TK Maxx for their wares (myself included). If you’re on a limited budget (also myself included, my TK Maxx haul was a candle and bunting) you can still add a little festive spice- pumpkin, if you wish- with some super easy autumn crafts.

A quick descend into a Pinterest abyss can offer a wealth of crafty ideas but if your resources are limited, I’ve got you covered. Decorated jars are easy to make, hella resourceful and budget friendly. They look pretty, and if you reuse old jars, I dunno, does that count as recycling? Or upcycling? I like to think so. Here’s my five step guide to making an autumn jar…

Firstly, you’ll need..

Some jars (coffee jars, candle jars, mason jars, the choice is yours)

Leaves (duh)

Mod Podge or PVA Glue mixed with a li’l water (the Mod Podge also acts as a sealant as well but glue does the job if you don’t have any handy)

A paint brush

Forage

This is arguably the most fun part. This is the perfect time of year to gather leaves, they’re not too crunchy (and therefore won’t stick) and we’ve not been so ravaged by rainstorms that they’re basically mush.

The colours of fallen leaves this time of year are perfect too: it’s the most vibrant palette of deep reds and golden yellows, and even the odd green straggler.

Go a long walk on a dry day and pick as wide a variety as you can. Plus it’s nice being outside when you’re doing something you actually want to do, right?

I also found it helpful to press ’em before sticking them on, just to make sure they’re nice and flat. It makes it easier for sticking on to the jar, as you don’t have any wee end bits sticking up. Kids’ hardback books are especially good. If there’s any moisture on the leaves, line the pages with kitchen roll to get out the last of it.

Gather Your Tools

Y’know when you go through jars of coffee, decide you’re going through too many and switch to the refills, and find yourself with a box full of empty jars you dunno what to do with?

If, like me, that’s a resounding yes I’ve got good news- it’s time to harvest.

If not, you can reuse a candle jar, or buy one. Whatever works, as long as it’s big enough to stick some leaves on.

We got Mod Podge in Hobbycraft, purely because we were in the shop, the packaging is retro A.F. and I figured if I had the means to make crafts I might actually do it. It’s not as cheap as regulation PVA glue, and not as widely available. If you like, you can mix some PVA glue with water and it’s basically the same thing.

Your paintbrush doesn’t matter, although a smaller one might be good to work quickly with the glue. I had a load of bog standard ones I got from The Works, and some kiddy friendly ones from Tesco- basically anything that you’re not gonna be precious with.

Glue the First

Using your brush, apply a thin layer of Mod Podge to the area you want to stick your leaves on. Apply the first leaf, making sure it’s all nice and smooth. Hold it on for a few seconds to make sure it doesn’t peel off, or until the Mod Podge goes slightly tacky. If you need to, you can apply some more glue around the edges to make sure it sticks. Continue with your other leaves until you’ve applied as many as you like.

Glue the Second

Once you’ve stuck your leaves on and it’s dried off a little, paint another thin layer of Mod Podge to seal the deal. The regular stuff has a matte finish, but there’s also a gloss version if you want a bit of shine.

Ta-Da!

Once the glue’s dried you can do whatever you want with it: we tied some twine into a bow around the neck of the glass, and you can fill it with candles or fairy lights if you’re feeling extra. See? Told you it was easy.

It seems strange, writing a letter to a baby. Especially a very little one, who has only a rudimentary understanding of technology, or even words. He knows identifiers like “mama” and “dada”. He’s just about realised that when you press a switch, the big light goes on and off. That’s about it.

I never understood people who wish their children a happy birthday on social media. However any other way- writing about him- would’ve felt weirdly impersonal. I’m not a spectator on our lives so I can’t write that way.

Who knows. Maybe he can read it when he’s older. Maybe this medium will no longer exist. Maybe I’ll print it out and save a copy for birthdays to come. In any case, baby’s first birthday is a milestone like no other and it felt like a good time to lay down some thoughts on our twelve months together.

It’s a bit of a brain dump. Writing down my thoughts always has been, I’m not the best at articulating them. It’s better that he finds this out sooner, then, eh?

My baby boy,

You met me at a very strange time in my life.

Six months out of uni, while working in a bar to get by, I found out about you. The news was not completely unexpected- I’d had my suspicions for a while- but seeing it on a little plastic stick rocked us to our core.

I guess you could call it a quarter life crisis. That seems so far away for you. The pieces of our puzzle hadn’t yet clicked into place and your impending existence was very scary indeed. How could we be parents when we hadn’t yet explored life as the two of us? How could we be responsible for bringing another person into this world? It seemed deeply selfish.

Over the coming weeks we told no one about you, keeping a huge secret within our little unit. We knew that whatever happened, whenever the news got out, our lives would forever change. There would be no going back. Slowly but surely we told our family, friends, colleagues and neighbours. With baited breath we announced the news on social media (as was the tradition). I wrote about my feelings, unsure whether my anxieties about motherhood meant that I was ready for you. All the while you grew and grew and we prepared ourselves to meet you.

As with everything else, even your birth was a surprise. I was supposed to be finishing up work to go on maternity leave. I thought I had ten days before your scheduled arrival. But, like your mother, you don’t work to a schedule. After taking myself to bed on my penultimate day of work, I woke up a few hours later knowing that you were on your way.

We did everything by the book, phoning the hospital, triple checking our bags, pouring a hot bath and waiting. Even then, it didn’t seem real. The car ride, the hospital, the labour room where you came into the world. It was all a blur until one giant push brought you tumbling into our lives. And boy, did you turn them upside down.

Our first year together has been a learning curve for us all. We had a difficult first few weeks. It often felt like we were falling behind before we’d even started. Every time I feel like we’ve got a handle on parenting, another new milestone comes along and again, we’re playing catch up. But then, isn’t that what parenting is? Does anyone really have a handle on it?

I don’t know why I’m asking you. All you know so far is what we’ve tried to create for you. There are times when we don’t understand each other, you and I. But we try. We’re all learning. We’re learning how to create a world for you, how to make this world a better place for you. You’re learning everything and it’s us who have to teach you. We’ve made our mistakes. We’ll probably make more. I hope you’ll forgive us for them. We’re just doing what we think is best. It might not always be right, but we’re trying. You seem happy enough anyway.

Looking at you now, it’s hard to believe you were ever an unknown. From the unruly tufts of blonde curls to the curve of your nose and little dimples of your fingers, to your happy chuckle and inquisitive little voice, everything about you is very real. It didn’t sink in ’til a few days after you were born, mind you. The first time you cried and I wasn’t there (I’d gone for a shower after sitting in my jammies ’til dinner time), that’s when it hit me. Of all the babies on the ward, I knew that was your cry and that you needed me.

You’ll need me less and less as time goes on. You already do so much for yourself. You’re already so independent and strong willed. That’s not something I’ll ever criticise- you get it from me, after all. It does get bloody frustrating though.

You are your own little person, with your own quirks and traits. You’ll grow up to like your own things (as much as we’ll try and guide you with films and music). I won’t tell you what to believe. I will try and teach you the importance of believing in something, in anything that stirs your imagination. Anything that makes the world a better place for you and those around you. Anything that puts some kindness back into the world.

I can’t promise you that everything will be always be smooth sailing. I can’t promise that we won’t have our bad days, or that life will always be kind. What I can promise is that you will want for nothing- certainly not emotionally. You will always have a family, you will always have a home, you will always have a sanctuary. Wherever you go, however far away you are from us, I will always be right behind you. However or whoever you grow up to be, I will always be proud of you. As I was when you were born, rolled over for the first time, said your first word, clapped your hands. As I will be when you take your first steps and forge your own path.

You have the whole world in front of you, my son, and all of it is yours. Everything is ahead of you. There’s no telling what the future holds for our little family, but it’s a much brighter one with you in it. I am so excited for what you have to see.

Shuffling towards the edge of the platform, artificially awake thanks to trite alarms and instant coffee, I estimated that I had roughly ten hours before I’d be getting off at the other side. Until then I’d paid £7 for the privilege of being squashed into standing in an aisle, far closer to any stranger as I like to get. I rooted in my bag to make sure I had my awful, unflattering ID pass and readied myself for the day ahead.

Yup, as of September our little bubble of maternity leave burst and I had to go back to work. In our flat I could walk into town and back, avoiding the cattle trains and turnstiles. Towards the end of my pregnancy I took the train and hated it. I travelled six minutes into town and back, for two weeks, and that was enough for me. Now I’m a fully fledged commuter… and it sucks. No one looks especially happy to be there. People shove and huff and we all get off at the other end, trudging towards our daily destiny.

There’s no sugar coating it. Going back to work after maternity leave is hard. You spend your first few weeks of parenthood in a daze, forge a new normal for yourselves around every new milestone and wrap your days around making a world for a whole new person. Just when you think you’re getting the hang of the parenting thing, the real world comes calling. Before you know it you’re duty bound by alarms, bills and childcare- if you’re fortunate enough to have it.

I don’t doubt it’d be hard even if I loved my job. Of course it is- and I certainly don’t. Before I finished work I always had the finishing line in sight, I had something to look forward to even on the hardest days. Now it’s like… this is it. There’s no end goal. It’s just day in, day out. For me, though, it’s got to be done. My job search has stalled as I get used to the new daily routine. I spend all day at work, commute home, spend some time with my son and maybe have time for dinner. Even blogging has fallen by the wayside. Going back part time isn’t an option that I can afford. It wasn’t what I wanted, but I’ve ended up going back full time. So what does that make me as a mum?

It’s hard when you’re reluctant about going back. What makes it worse are the sly comments about how you can’t really have it all, the exhalation of SAHM’hood as being a woman’s highest calling, the swathes of Facebook friends with ‘full time mum’ as their occupation. I’m not saying that being a stay at home mum is easy, or even always a choice. Childcare costs can often mean that it’s simply not financially viable to work. When your life revolves around rearing a family it’s hard to ever be yourself. Even in my nine months of it, it was bloody difficult, often stressful and sometimes completely overwhelming. Still, though. The particular choice of ‘title’ can hurt. What, then, does that make me? If I work full time, and say at home mums are ‘full time mums’… am I, then, a part time mum?

The guilt is real when I think about how much I’m missing. The things I didn’t do on maternity leave. The WhatsApp group of mum friends that I don’t have. My son is ten months old, hurtling towards a year, getting more vocal and mobile every day. I know there will be milestones that I’ll miss, and it kills me. But it’s what I have to do for now.

It doesn’t make it any easier when my social media feeds are clogged up with colourful, playful, seemingly non-threatening infographics. You know the type. The ones that play on your guilt, that you could be doing more for your family selling shit from home.

“Looking for people to join me on my journey!!!”

“Are you a working mum wanting more time at home???!!”

“Don’t let other people raise your children for you!!!!111!!111″

Of course when you’re hustling for a place on a crowded platform, anything else seems like a better option. When you have to drop a poorly baby off so you can go to work, the gnawing self-reproach at having to do so can swallow your focus. Going back to work is hard enough. Plying working mums with images of the life they’re not leading- while playing on feelings of maternal inadequacy- isn’t fair.

The truth is, no one has it really sussed. Not that I can see anyway. There are pros and cons of being a working mum and stay at home mum. I long for the endless stretch of days just me and my son, finding fun new things for us to do or having lazy days when it was raining. But I missed adult conversation, having some sort of purpose outside the home and having my own money.

Practically, it’d be selfish of me to stay off work. Ally earns decent money but it’s not enough to support three people. It’s not fair- for us- to let all the finances fall on one person. On a selfish level, I like being able to pick up stuff without worrying too much. I’ve always had my own money. I’d like to keep it that way. Lucas is growing at such a rate of noughts that he needs new clothes all the time. And I can get ’em. Cool.

Some parents are limited in their working choices because they also have to fit in studying around a family.

Some parents just can’t wait to go back to work.

Does that mean they love their children any less? Does it hell.

Just because your child spends more time with someone else doesn’t make you less of a mum. If I leave my son with his grandparents for nine hours a day I’m still his mummy. I’m the one who gets him up in the morning, puts him to bed, takes him to all his appointments. It’s me who takes the hit of his teething grumbles, or drives him to the hospital when he’s got a virus. It’s me that he shouts on and flashes a huge, toothy grin at when I eventually trudge home.

There’s no perfect way of parenting. We’re all just doing the best that we can, with the knowledge and resources that we have. Just like everything fuckin’ else in life, whatever path you’re forging is yours, your family’s, whatever. It doesn’t have to work for other people, if it works for you.

This time last year, I was slap bang in the middle of my second trimester. We’d settled into the idea of being parents and life revolved around scans, midwife appointments and shopping for prams. It doesn’t feel like a year, but here we are with an eight month old (I kind of dropped the ball on monthly updates on the blog, huh?). As much fun as it is, I do find myself looking back fondly on the experience of being first-time expectant parents.

Love- or at the very least, lust- is in the air around these parts. It feels like every week brings another pregnancy announcement (seriously people, how much are you having at it?). Every time I see one I get a wee buzz of excitement, even if I don’t know the person. First time parents have so much to look forward to, they don’t even know. Obviously having a baby isn’t the be all and end all. It’s not always immediate cause for celebration. It’s hard bloody work.

If you do choose to have a baby though, for all the hard parts, it’s pretty great. The worst part though? All of the unsolicited advice and intrusive questions. Shortly before my due date, I compiled a list of the most common things I’d been asked during pregnancy. In hindsight, with eight months’ parenting experience under my belt, I’ve put together a compilation of advice: take it from someone who’s still muddling through, learning on the job. You’re going to be fine.

No one cares about your birth

I mean this in the nicest possible way. If you’ve attended antenatal classes, or discussed a birth plan, you’re probably aware of different birthing options. Whether it’s in a bath, drug-free, hypnobirth, epidural, via caesaerean or getting the ol’ plunger up in there, one thing is the same: whatever gets your baby out safely is what’s natural and normal for you. For me it just feels like another way of heaping pressure on expectant parents. People shoo away the notion of pain relief because they “want to experience as much as possible”. Personally, I opted for diamorphine and had a pretty thorough experience without feeling like I was being punched in the vagina from the inside. If you’re opting for pain relief it’s not wussing out. Giving birth without pain relief doesn’t make you a better parent (although hats off if you did). Giving birth via C-section is still giving birth. Your birth is personal to you, and if people want to judge by their own standards it doesn’t lessen your experience or make theirs any more valid. In the grand scheme of things, as long as parent(s) and baby are happy, no one cares.

Fed is best

Breastfeeding is hard. It takes practise. Considering the UK has the lowest breastfeeding rates in the world, there’s clearly not enough support out there. If you can make it work, and stick with it, that’s awesome. However if, like me, breastfeeding isn’t an option- or hey, if you just choose not to- that’s cool too. Championing one way of feeding at the derision of another isn’t cool. You don’t know someone’s story or circumstance. As long as your baby is happy, healthy and gaining weight, go with what works for you.

Just say no

This is the one piece of advice that I wish I’d take under advisement when Lucas was born. When we came home from hospital, all I wanted was a nice quiet day or so to adjust to our new life as three. This didn’t happen. For the next few weeks, into Christmas and new year, it felt like a constant procession. We never had time alone just to be ourselves. People mean well but, with the onset of baby blues, it can be a bit overwhelming. Don’t be afraid to say no if you’re not up to visits right away. Take your time, enjoy the first few days at home with your baby. Family and friends will still be there when you’re ready.

Take your time

One of the weirdest realisations about having a baby is that life goes on. I remember standing looking out of the window of the maternity ward, looking at the buses and cars going up and down the motorway, going to and from work as if nothing had changed. For us, our whole world had changed, but the world kept turnin’. Coming home felt like our little bubble had burst.

Since then we’ve bought a house, moved twice, I’m doing a phased return to work and looking at nurseries for the little man. I don’t know that the enormity of this year of change quite hit me until recently, until it hit me all at once. Change can be hard to process, and having a baby changes everything. Your lifestyle, relationship, body- everything. If you need some time to adjust, fine. You’re allowed to feel like change is hard to keep up with. Be kind to yourself- you’re doing the best you can.

Comparison is the thief of joy

Once your baby’s born you’re thrust into a myriad of milestones. First time smiling, laughing, rolling over, sleeping through the night, eating solids, cutting a tooth. Some babies roll over within a matter of months. Lucas was about six months before he nailed the ol’ back to front roll. Was I worried? No. It meant I could pop through to the next room without worrying. He still doesn’t have a tooth, but nothing I do is going to make that happen faster. Babies do everything in their own time. Looking at what other babies do- or don’t do- can send you spiralling into a tailspin of parental guilt (if you’re anything like me). Likewise, if another mum snapped back to pre-pregnancy weight, or if their baby latched on to the boob while you had to opt for the bottle. Ask yourself “does this in any way impact me or my child?”. If the answer is no, let it go. Parenting is a minefield of worry and the hardest thing to do is learn to pick your battles.

Enjoy the little things

It’s an old adage but it’s true. Babies are only babies for a short while. Before you know it, they’re actual real, independent, little people. I was guilty of getting caught up in thinking of the next Big Thing and trying to do as much as possible. As soon as I went back to work for a KIT day, it felt as though the last eight months hadn’t happened. Trying to overreach was just stressful. While I still like finding new things to do, it makes me appreciate chilled days more. I went along to a CBT course run by the NHS wellbeing services, which helped massively. If you don’t have the time or inclination to sign up, there are plenty of resources out there. Spending the afternoon in a library, getting some fresh air, not getting dressed til 11am, , writing down one thing I’m grateful for every day, even- gasp- putting my phone down helped massively. As did putting Lucas down for a nap, patching the cleaning and actually having a hot cup of coffee.

Take it in your stride

Like I said, people are only too happy to throw advice at you. Some of it’s helpful and well meaning, some of it isn’t. Most of it will be unsolicited. When it comes to parenting, everyone has an opinion, but only you know what’s best for you. Smile and nod. Very few of us know what we’re doing, but we crack on. You got this.

As you may know, we bought our first house in April. After years of renting, it was such an exciting prospect to start making it into a home. Plus, y’know, it’s nice to pay your own mortgage at a lesser amount to someone else’s. I’d been dreaming of decorating my own place for so long that I thought I’d want to batter in at full pelt, with swatches and samples in every colour scheme, shade and finish. Turns out moving twice with a baby is knackering. By the time we’d unpacked, cleaned, vaguely rearranged the furniture and stocked up on essentials, we kind of ran out of steam.

Even for an old person’s room this would be ‘eh’

I had an idea of what I wanted for Lucas’s room. I wanted something that would grow with him, but was still suitable for a baby’s room. The colour scheme I had in mind was neutral, so that I could tart up it with accessories. It also had to look homely and playful, but still practical. And nothing involving wallpaper. So far, so many, many requests. Thankfully I’d spotted mountain murals during a tumble down the Pinterest abyss and they ticked all of my boxes. They range from simple and stylistic to complicated and multi-tonal. What I liked, was that it could be as intricate (or not) as you wanted.

In the end, I had so many images pinned that mine became a sort of composite of everything. Having zero experience in the field of DIY (other than glossing windows at seven months pregnant and painting my bathroom window), I recorded it at every step of the way. There were loads of ideas online and a few decent tutorials. Since it’s our first attempt I thought I’d put together a wee step-by-step guide of my own, so here it is!

Research It!

Even if you have a vague hypothetical image, keep an open mind. Have a quick shufti on Pinterest, if it’s possible to do so. Look for blogs, articles, tutorials, videos, hell even a Google image search. You might find layouts or colour schemes you hadn’t thought of, or other decorative ideas. Save ’em, pin ’em, stash ’em in a folder. This can give a good indication of what colours you’re going to use. Roughly speaking you’ll need light, mid and dark tones so make sure your colours mix together.

Samples and tester pots are handy as they can often look different once applied, and even days later. I didn’t put too much thought into where I bought my supplies: there’s a B&Q about two minutes’ drive from my house.

There were loads of murals I liked: some more complicated than others, but mostly all for larger rooms. In the end, I drew a sketch of what I wanted it to look like, mapped out what colours should go where and worked from that.

Have a good base to work from

The room was wallpapered when we moved in and stripping it was the biggest chore. We decided a white base was best to work from, as it’d best show up the mural and would give us a clean slate for the other walls. The previous owners had left a couple of tins of white emulsion- yass. This made our choice easier as even white emulsion is a minefield. We ended up using silk emulsion, which has a slight iridescent sheen to it. If you want something flatter, go for a matt. Silk is easier to wipe, but it can also show up imperfections, so go with whatever best suits your needs.

Choose your tools

I didn’t put a great deal of research into the paints I used. The plans I’d drawn required a light, mid and dark grey, and I went from there. My nearest DIY store was B&Q so went there for convenience, and had a browse of their testers. If you’re not sure what colours to go for, testers are great. I painted a few swatches and let them dry overnight, to see what they’d look like dry. I bought three Dulux shades: Warm Pewter, Polished Pebble and Urban Obsession. I ended up not using the latter as it was just too dark, but it depends on what you’re going for. For the background, I used colourcourage in Soft Grey. It dried to an almost beige-grey which complemented the other shades nicely.

We got paint pads for the white emulsion, instead of using a roller, as they gave better coverage with less splashback. I used a medium-sized one for the bulk of the mural coverage and tidied up the edges with a brush. Don’t forget a dust sheet if you don’t already have one. It’s a licence to make as much splattery mess as you want.

Make Your Mark

There were loads of murals I liked: some more complicated than others, but mostly all for larger rooms. In the end, I drew a sketch of what I wanted it to look like, mapped out what colours should go where and worked from that. The plan itself was pretty flexible. Once I knew what colours I was using I could play about with it. Even if you don’t stick with it to the letter, it’s handy to have a visual reminder. I measured the height of the wall then got bored of measuring. I’d also pinged myself in the hand with the retractable tape measure and it was hell’a nippy.

Plan in other hand, I marked the design on the wall using Frogtape. It’s easy to apply and can be moved about without losing its stickiness. Every time I stuck a bit down I’d step back and readjust to straighten up my lines. With a Scandi-inspired design you want your lines to be clean. Frogtape is great for giving you really sharp lines. Trim off any excess or overlapping tape with a cutting knife or super-sharp scissors. You don’t want any sad, flaccid, blunt lines.

Little hint: once you’ve got your tape where you want it, give it a wipe with a wet cloth or sponge and it won’t budge ’til you want it to. (This isn’t a sponsored post or anything, I just bought, like, three kinds of Frogtape and it turned out pretty sweet).

Have At It

Now that it’s all been marked off, start with the biggest area (that requires the most coverage) first. That way, you can work round the fiddly edges while the middle bit is drying. I started with the mid-grey that made up most of the mountain, then got in about the shady shapes behind it. The peaks were the last thing to start and finish.

Once you’ve painted the edges, remove the tape immediately (or at the very most, after an hour or so). That way, you’ll get the sharpest lines and the paint won’t bleed.

Yes, you’ll need to keep applying the tape to get your lines straight and fill in the gaps. Don’t do this right away. Leave it for an hour or so, or you run the risk of the tape ripping off your paint. When you paint on one side of the tape, you’ll need to adjust it to fill in any blank space. It’s fiddly, but the whole design relies on straight lines, so it’s worth the extra effort.

Don’t paint a second coat while the first is still drying- this will make the paint blister and it’ll look weird. Crack a window and leave it for a day. I repeated the process the following day until the paint was smooth and even, the edges were sharp and any blotchy bits had been fixed. Voila- a mountain mural.

The room is still far from being finished- the opposite wall is a complete blank canvas, and as you can see we don’t have curtains yet. The mural gave a good basis for the room’s colour scheme though, so we have a better idea of what else to put in it. This IKEA Gonatt cotbed also comes in white, but the grey sold me on it. It has two heights and you can remove the bars on one side to make it into a bed. Perfect for the whole ‘room that grows with the baby’ thing. There are other random bits and little touches to give the room some colour, too. For a work in progress, and a first attempt at DIY, I’m pretty proud of it. If you’re attempting something similar, I hope this little guide was useful (even as a fan letter to Frogtape).